


on strangers' rooftops

by PigaKnight



Category: Homestuck
Genre: Attempt at Humor, Bisexual Dave Strider, Caliginous Romance | Kismesis, Cult of the Signless Sufferer, Domestic Fluff, Families of Choice, Fluff and Angst, Flushed Romance | Matesprits, Gen, Implied/Referenced Child Abuse, Mostly Fluff, Not Canon Compliant, Pale Romance | Moirallegiance, Past Child Abuse, Quadrant Confusion, Teenage Drama, Troll Culture (Homestuck), Trolls on Earth (Homestuck), despite uh the entire premise, happy 4/13 you fuckin homestucks, jk ily
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-04-14
Updated: 2020-04-14
Packaged: 2021-03-01 20:28:46
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,953
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23643106
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/PigaKnight/pseuds/PigaKnight
Summary: So apparently something's wrong with Bro's parenting or whatever, not that Dave believes the fucking police (who even does that?). While he waits for the courts to settle it, he's sent to live with a foster family. They're friendly and smart and genuinely nice to him, and really weird too but they're trolls so that's to be expected.He's happy there, and it's the opposite of everything he's supposed to feel.Updates every other Monday.
Relationships: Dave Strider ❤️ Karkat Vantas, Kanaya Maryam ❤️ Rose Lalonde, Other Relationship Tags to Be Added, The Signless | The Sufferer ♦️ The Psiionic | The Helmsman, The Signless | The Sufferer ❤️ The Disciple, there will be blackrom too i just haven't decided who with yet!
Comments: 5
Kudos: 57





	on strangers' rooftops

It wasn’t Dave who called the police, not that it fucking mattered, because Bro wasn’t taking no for an answer. 

It was actually a man in an adjacent penthouse apartment, who anonymously reported that there was this grown-ass adult sword fighting a kid on the roof opposite him? And apparently everyone else was used to it but it seemed weird to him, because even from such a distance he could see the kid’s hesitant movements and the occasional smears of red left on the roof after one of their fights. This wasn’t some fencing hobby. It really seemed like this guy was trying to stab his kid in a swordfight.

Which, well. Dave knew Bro wasn’t actually going to stab him. He’d had plenty of opportunities but his brother had never hurt him enough to kill him. Judging by Bro’s face behind the officers’ backs as they came in to investigate, that might change today, though. He’d barely had time to shove excess swords and puppets into closets after the officers buzzed in, alerting them to their presence.

“I know you have a warrant but don’t mess up my shit too much,” Bro warned, closing the door behind them. Only one officer deigned to respond, but only with a raised-eyebrows sort of ‘seriously?’ expression. “Do you want to talk to me or Dave or what.”

The first officer, a tealblooded troll with a wide grin, announced that she would take Dave and the other guy could talk to Bro. And then they’d do a little house search, and it would all be over quickly if they had nothing to hide.

Bro frowned at her. “All right,” he replied, mouth drawn into a tight line. “Do whatever. Show her to your room, Dave.”

The kid nodded, glanced at the teal officer to make sure she was following him (signified only by a tiny tilt of the head) before, “Yeah, sure. Here,” and leading her down the hallway. He pushed his door open, stepping in first over scattered wires on the floor, and tore something off the back.

“What’s that?” she questioned. Dave shrugged, balling up the scrap of paper. She thought she caught a glimpse of some blood-covered doll?

“It’s a comic. Strider irony, cryptic as always,” he said, turning and tossing it into the trashcan. “Kobe.”

“Nice,” she grinned. Dave pulled out his computer chair, pointed at it for her to sit, and took the edge of the bed for himself.

“So,” he said, “What’s up. Who are you.”

“I’m the Neophyte Redglare,” she told him, crossing her legs with a flourish. “Now. I got a interview here with you, just answer honestly and I’ll take care of the rest. All your answers are confidential, unless we find something unsavory and you’ll be out of here by the time anyone but me and my supervisors know about it.”

Dave looked at her impassively through the glasses. “Okay, I’m Dave Strider. Fire away, I guess.”

“Okay, a few routine things first: how’s your living situation? Is there anything you need but can’t get, food, money, water, anything else?” she inquired.

“I’m fourteen, I don’t really need money. Bro pays the bills. And obviously I have food and water and everything, he’s not starving me or some shit like that,” he said. Redglare nodded and didn’t press.

“‘Course, and that’s a good thing. I’ve been told you’re homeschooled too?”

“Yeah,” he agreed. He hesitated, then when Redglare just waited for him to go on, “I read a bunch of wikipedia and shit. I’m good at math and I like dead things, I know a lot about paleontology and anthropology.”

“I noticed,” she remarked, glancing at the jars of formaldehyde and little dead animals on his shelf. Weird, but she’s seen weirder. “Does your bro teach you? On wikipedia?” she wondered.

“I mean, he showed me it when he took me out of school in—uh, fourth grade it’s gotta be—I do it myself though. I don’t need someone hovering over me all the time,” he defends. “I’m not like, retarded or some shit.”

Oookay. “So your brother just helps you with your portfolio, then? To prove you’re learning everything and doing tests on time?”

Dave shook his head, raising an eyebrow at her like she was saying something ridiculous. “I don’t need babying, you literally just put notes in a folder.”

Hm. Time for a change in topic. “Okay, so, what’s your brother like? Just say whatever comes to mind.”

“He’s cool,” Dave told her immediately. “Ironic, and strong, and kind of convoluted but you can’t blame a guy for that. He’s my brother, what am I supposed to say? He’s a DJ, and he sells shit online. Puppets and videos and stuff. He gave me my turntables, they’re cool too,” he said, jerking his thumb at, indeed, the turntables on the other side of the room—evidently well-used. “He likes anime and shitty video games and horror movies.”

“Huh, what kind of videos does he sell? I didn’t know that was a real side job,” Redglare wondered. Dave suddenly looked uncomfortable.

“You know, it’s about. Just. Cool stuff,” he said, scanning the shelves on the opposite wall. When the silence stretched out, he reluctantly added, “He makes me help him sometimes but I mean, this is kinda his house, so it’s fine.” Not going to answer the actual question, but he’ll word vomit that his brother makes him help.

And finally, “So Dave, do you know why we got called here?”

“No? I mean yeah, someone probably overreacted to our strifing, but it’s not like, a legit reason. The Strider family is a line going back hundreds of years, I guess like every other family, but we’re the coolest in the country. It’s a birthright, a way of life, a hallowed tradition the neighbors shouldn’t be judging,” he explained. Redglare tried not to look pointedly at the rack of very real swords on the wall.

“So, strifing? Sounds like fun, how does it work?”

“It’s not fun,” he denied immediately. “It’s like working out, it’s not really fun but it helps you get better. Bro is the fucking best, I haven’t beat him once, but I can keep it up for like, ten minutes now sometimes. But. How it works is that, Bro leaves me a note somewhere, then I meet him on the roof and hone our sick skills to perfection.”

“Fencing skills?” she prompted.

Dave looked almost offended despite the shades. “Nah, real swordfighting, not that pussy shit.”

“Do you ever get hurt in these fights?”

Dave crossed his arms, and it looked like that was all she was getting out of him. “He’s not like, a fucking abuser, he’s cool. I don’t understand him sometimes, but it’s just a level of irony I’m not ready for yet. He's the master at all that, he rules like a king over a sprawling ironic kingdom, with an iron fist. Peasants flock to the castle in hopes that they'll be deemed worthy by the irony..." He trailed off as Redglare just stared at him. "He has his reasons and he’s making me stronger. Getting me ready for the real world.”

By teaching him to swordfight instead of, you know, providing him with actual school. Redglare doubted she was going to get an answer out of him, but couldn’t just not try asking, “Do you really think swordfighting and leaving you ‘cryptic comics’ is going to be useful out there? Instead of helping you with school?”

Dave kept a straight face, but his body tensed, his face carefully blank. “You just don’t understand.”

Ah, denial, then. “Okay. Well, thank you for talking to me, I think that’s all I have to say. I’m gonna go check and see if your brother is done, you wanna stay in here?”

“Sure,” Dave agreed, standing abruptly and crossing to the window. Redglare hesitated as he opened the window, sticking his hand out. “Bowie!” The first thing he’s said without that weird facade of emotionlessness.

A crow swooped down, landing on his hand (carefully, apparently, or at least he didn’t react to its talons), and Redglare couldn’t help but hesitate. “You have a pet crow?”

“She’s a friend,” Dave corrected quietly. It—she—was holding something in its beak, a little blue bead like something that might have fallen off a kid’s bracelet, and Redglare shook her head and left the room as the bird dropped the little gift in his hand.

The older Strider retreated to his bedroom, a hard look on his face, when Redglare and Entruste more than subtly hinted at it and began searching the living room. They did try not to mess much up, just shuffled through some video games (Dave was right, they were shitty) and suspiciously eyed a stray puppet, but, well, their decor is their choice.

Then Entruste opened the fridge and had to jump out of the way of a massive, clattering pile of swords.

“What the fuck,” she swore, glaring up at the now-empty refrigerator. Where the hell were they keeping the food then? “Was that- a fucking-“

Redglare strode to her side, carefully kicking the swords out of the way of the fridge. “It’s like a trap, if you reacted any slower…” she trailed off, glancing at the icemaker on the fridge door. She stepped past the other officer, bending to peer up where the chute should be- except there was something blocking it, something small and plastic. It wasn’t hard to pry it free with her claws, and as it fell into her hands, it became immediately apparent what it was.

“A camera,” Entruste breathed. As they watched, the lens dilated—it was on and recording—Redglare flipped it over, turning on the screen. After a bit of fiddling, she clicked back through the previous videos still stored on the device.

“Look for more weapons and cameras,” Redglare ordered. The younger officer nodded, moving through the rest of the kitchen, while Redglare flicked through the recordings. Stopping at a random one, she pressed play and watched as the Strider kitchen appeared. There were more puppets this time, like the one in the living room, and the counters were messy, covered with literal piles of knives. Dave was coming into the room, and he glanced at the camera for a second before forcing his gaze away, shoulders hunched.

Checking behind him, he carefully dropped into a crouch and opened a drawer under the sink. After setting his jaw and extracting a few more puppets, he reached his goal—evidently dish soap—and put everything back as it was.

Then, a flash too fast for the camera to pick up—and Dave reeled back, barely missing walking headfirst into a puppet hanging from the ceiling. The kid froze, glancing around, and after a second grabbed a sword off the counter in his free hand.

He glanced at the camera again as he scanned his surroundings, but he was allowed to walk back to his room unimpeded beyond that one psyche out. Then the camera turned off.

“Never mind, everything we need to charge him is right here, this is too many weapons and I’d bet money there’s videos of their actual fights on here,” she said, turning abruptly, “We need to do a physical exam and check for injuries, look through the rest of these videos, and if these are the videos Dave mentioned his brother sells, we have to find the rest.”

Entruste stopped halfway through opening the attic trapdoor, going to say something, but a cascade of puppets fell on her head and almost completely buried her. From inside the pile came a faint, enraged scream.


End file.
